


License and Registration

by novel_concept26



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novel_concept26/pseuds/novel_concept26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Officer Beth Childs pulls over Alison Hendrix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	License and Registration

_Keep calm, Alison. Just keep calm. Breathing exercises, remember, Dr. Jenkins says those are very important..._

What she's doing actually qualifies less as breathing, more as  _hyperventilating_ , technically speaking, but how much can really be expected from a woman who has just been  _pulled over_? Pulled over! By an honest to God cop--and it's not like she was even speeding  _so_ badly. Five--ten--

"Ma'am, do you realize you were going eighteen over the posted speed limit?" _  
_

Alison winces. The cop is a young woman in an impeccable uniform and mirrored aviators, her hair tied back from her face. Her hands rest on her hips. She is not bothering to bend at all to look Alison in the eye. Just as well. Alison's fairly certain eye contact would send her into a spectacular panic fit just now.

"I--I can explain."

The officer waves her off. "License and registration?"

Her hands are shaking as she fumbles both free and forks them over, letting her palms fall together in her lap as soon as they are empty. The officer looks her over once, a long, calculating look made instantly imposing by her ( _idiotic; does she think this is Top Gun?_ Alison can't resist thinking) sunglasses. "Ma'am, are you all right?"

"Yes," Alison manages. Then, though she's pretty sure it won't help her case: "I've just never done this before. And, um. Cop--police--officers make me nervous."

To her surprise, the woman almost smiles. "No need for that, Miss...Hendrix. I'm just going to go back to my cruiser, run a quick search. You stay in your vehicle, all right?"

She's so rigidly prepared to behave exactly as the officer requests that Alison actually has her door halfway open by the time she realizes the order was to  _stay put_. The image in her mind is sharp and humiliating: this pretty young cop bending her double over the hood of her own mini-van, clapping her in irons and growling, "I said stay  _in_  your vehicle. How many drinks have you had this afternoon, ma'am? You have the right to remain silent."

Thankfully, the officer-- _Childs_ , she guesses from the nameplate pinned to her breast--is already back to her own vehicle, apparently oblivious to Alison's kindergarten-listening-skills failure. She straightens her shoulders against the seat, drawing in shuddery breaths and reminding herself that her record is  _spotless_ , that she was only speeding because  _Donnie_  made her  _so mad_  after work today,  _so_  mad that her brain could only fire in sputters and starts. Donnie, who thinks a few months of dating is reason enough to tell her what to do with her free time. Donnie, who thinks a few months of dating makes him  _king of the motherfluffin' world_ , and Donnie has got another thing coming, doesn't he? Donnie has certainly got--

"All right, Miss Hendrix." The officer is back alongside her window, still holding her license and registration between her fingers. She slips both through the window, wiggling them gently when Alison does not immediately move to take them back. "I'm going to let you off with a warning today. It's against my better judgement, with the speed you were setting, but it's a beautiful day, and you're clean otherwise."

"What?" Alison sounds blank, even to her own ears. "But I...I was speeding."

 _Stupid._ The woman  _is_  smiling now, though only with the corners of her lips. 

"I like to think we're all entitled to a second chance in this life, don't you?"

 _Don't argue, Alison, for God's sake. Gift horse! Mouth!_ "Yes. Yes, thank you. Thank you so much."

"And you're going to learn from it, aren't you?" The officer tips her glasses down her nose, revealing eyes as bright and warm as the day is clear. Alison meets those eyes, trembling from head to foot, and nods frantically. 

"Absolutely. Thank you again, Officer--"

"Childs." The cop pats her rolled-down window once, then tips her head with a puzzled expression. "Ma'am?"

"Y-yes?" It's karma, that's what it is. Beautiful, glimmering karmic retribution for tolerating that  _meathead_ , Donnie. 

"Ma'am, are you aware your vehicle is ajar?" And, before she can pry open her mouth to explain, Officer Childs is actually  _hip-checking_  the door shut. "There you go. Drive off now, Miss Hendrix. Watch your speed, if you could."

Shivering with her relentless good fortune, Alison does exactly that. She doesn't expect to see the pretty young cop in the unmarked cruiser again. 

That is, of course, where she's wrong. 

***

"Ma'am, could I see your license and registration, please?"

Alison sucks in a breath, resisting a groan. Twice. Twice in one week. This is absurd. 

"I'm sorry, I--was I speeding, officer?"

She turns, license and registration held out like a peace offering, and meets the bright eyes of Officer Childs. Again. She just about swallows her tongue. 

"You!"

Officer Childs, blissfully, chooses to ignore this. "Did you know you've got a taillight out, Miss...Hendrix?"

She says it like they've never met, like she didn't pull Alison over in almost this  _exact same spot_  less than a week ago. Her hair is still held out of her face, her uniform as precise as the last time Alison saw her. She is not smiling. 

_She really doesn't remember me. Jiminy Cricket. What are the odds?_

"No, I...I didn't know that," Alison replies hoarsely. "I'm sorry, I'll--I'll get it fixed right away."

Officer Childs passes her information back through the window, and leans her weight on one elbow. "See that you do. It's dangerous, you know. Brake lights save lives."

She says it so seriously, Alison can't help but nod along. It's only on the third bob of her head that she realizes the young woman in the pressed uniform is smiling with half of her mouth, as if she's just told a slightly inappropriate joke she can't help find amusing despite the company. 

"Drive off, Miss Hendrix. Take care of your vehicle, please."

Alison is still muttering when she pulls away from the curb. 

***

"License and--"

"I've  _fixed_  the taillight," Alison blurts. Her head is spinning. Officer Childs rests her weight against the mini-van's side, brows knitted. 

"Your taillight looks fine, ma'am."

Alison puffs out a relieved breath. "Oh, thank--"

"Did I see a phone in your hand?"

She whips around so fast, her bangs skid across her forehead and flop back down again. "I'm  _sorry_?"

"A phone," Officer Childs repeats easily. "I thought I might have seen a phone in your hand."

"You pulled me over," Alison repeats, so startled that her voice is slipping dangerously out of  _proper police manners_  and into  _treading on thin ice_  territory, "because you  _thought_  you  _might_  have seen a phone?"

To her credit, the cop only shrugs, a gentle  _what can you do_  gesture. "Did you have a phone out?"

Bewildered, and more than a little annoyed, Alison reaches into the backseat, locates her purse, and digs her cell phone free. Officer Childs looks at it, resting in her palm, for a good long while. 

"Guess not," she says at last, and smiles without a hint of sheepishness. "Drive off, Miss Hendrix."

Alison spends a full hour ranting about her  _police stalker_  to Felix Dawkins that night. 

***

She avoids the juncture of Jefferson and Main for a whole week. No one pulls her over. It doesn't matter; she's seeing red and blue lights in her dreams.

***

"Lic--"

"Oh, this is  _ridiculous_!" Alison explodes. She's just about asking to get herself arrested, she knows, but this woman has pulled her over  _four times_  in as many weeks.  _Four times_. Her taillight is pristine, her speeding habit effectively kicked in the rear end. She has not so much as  _touched_  a cell phone in the driver's seat. There is-- _  
_

"Nothing! There is nothing you could possibly be pulling me over for!"

The cop raises a manicured eyebrow, lips pursed. "Are you aware you are shouting at an officer of the law, ma'am?"

"I was going 35  _on the nose_ ," Alison raves. "I used my turn signal at every opportunity, I left a car's length between myself and the nearest vehicle. I was not texting, I was not eating, I was not  _doing my hair_. What reason could you  _possibly_  have for pulling me over this time, Officer Childs?"

Is--is the cop actually  _grinning_  at her?

"Radio."

"Radio," Alison repeats in a weak, fluttery voice. Officer Childs nods sagely. 

"Bit too loud. This is a residential, you know. Noise complaints."

It's inappropriate and immature, and Alison doesn't even care. She lets her forehead bonk off the steering wheel with a very satisfying  _thud_ anyway.

***

Her right tires kiss the curb as neat as you please. Before Childs has even reached her driver's side, Alison has her license and registration held between two fingers, lazily fluttering in the breeze. She stares straight ahead, jaw clenched. It would be a decidedly terrible idea, punching a cop in the face. Really terrible. She's going to have to pull out every breathing exercise in the book for this one. 

The crunch of gravel beneath clean boots alerts her to Childs' presence at her door, but the paperwork between her fingers stays put. For a long minute, Alison continues staring at that tree in the distance, watching squirrels chase one another around its base. 

When Childs continues to say nothing, do  _nothing_ , fail miserably to uphold her status here as  _obnoxious neighborhood watchdog_ , Alison grinds her teeth together.  _Fine. Fine. I'll start._

"What--," she begins. 

"Are you single?"

The accusatory tone goes careening out of her voice before she can catch it up, keep it steady, use it to her advantage. The words on her tongue deflate instantly, sad little cartoon bubbles drifting free and popping without a sound. 

"I'm--sorry?"

"Single," Officer Childs repeats, as if they have just run into one another at a pleasant little pizza parlor. "I'd like to ask for your number."

"Is...this is a new ticket-writing system, or...?" Suspicious, Alison retracts her hand, still clutching her credentials, and stares up at the smiling policewoman. Officer Childs makes a  _pfft_  gesture, eyes rolling heavenward. 

"Not even."

"You--you are an  _officer_  of the  _law_ ," Alison sputters. Officer Childs stuffs both hands into her pockets and shrugs. 

"Yeah. Guess I am."

"You have pulled me over," Alison goes on, flabbergasted, "no fewer than  _five_  times.  _Five_. Do you know how many times I've been pulled over in my entire life?"

"Mm...gonna guess five?" Officer Childs says brightly. Too brightly. Maybe she isn't a real cop after all, Alison thinks wildly. After all, she's never actually  _given_  a ticket. And her car is unmarked. Maybe she's some low-level grifter, and this is--

"Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Pretty much," Officer Childs agrees, grinning. "Or, rather, my SO's idea. He's got me out here as a sort of punishment for not filling out his paperwork on time. But the asking you out part is all me," she adds hastily. "If you're all right with catching dinner with a cop."

Alison opens and closes her mouth several times, fishlike and baffled. Officer Childs glances toward the rumbling traffic, rocking on her heels. 

"Anytime. 'Cuz I really ought to be, y'know. Policing."

"Will you--" Alison clears her throat. It's a sick thought; this woman is  _clearly_  deranged. Still, she is a good deal more attractive than Donnie, and Alison  _has_  been trying to escape his bumbling attempts to win her back... "Will you make me a promise, if I agree to give you my number?"

"That I'll never text and drive?" Officer Childs places one hand solemnly over her heart. "I swear on my badge."

Alison gives her a withering look. "Very funny. I will give you my number on one condition."

"Name it."

She leans out the window, glowering at the woman who has made her month a living hell. 

"You do not pull me over. Ever. Again."

Officer Beth Childs is a pain in the ass, Alison decides--but at least she keeps her word. 


End file.
